


All the Time in the World

by starkerized



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Bisexual Steve Rogers, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Domestic Fluff, F/F, Family Feels, Fix-It, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Pining, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 16:22:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18673240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkerized/pseuds/starkerized
Summary: Steve retires without going back in time, moves into a house across the lake from Tony’s (who faked his death), and is set up on a few dates. Somehow, the old and new Avengers become Steve’s personal dating counselors, and the real adventure was the lesbians they met along the way.“I think I’ve been in love with my best friend since middle school.”“Oh?” Steve turned to face him. Peter nodded, taking off the mask.“MJ. Except I was too busy crushing on the most popular girl in school for like four years, but then it turned out her dad was a supervillain, so that kind of killed it…”“Ah,” Steve said, as if this was the most normal circumstance in the world. “So now you’re in love with your best friend.”“But that’s the thing. I think I’ve been in love with her this whole time.”“How do you not know if you’ve… been in love with somebody… for years?” asked Steve, though the voice in the back of his head was screaming at him, You know damn well how, you idiot.





	All the Time in the World

**Author's Note:**

> me during the first 2 hours and 40 minutes of Endgame: wow!!!! I love it!  
> me during the last 20 minutes: so you're telling me Steve Rogers abandoned his friends and family... I am offended...  
> and then this fic was born. tdlr; the happy ending my dads deserved.

At first, Steve had no idea that Tony had faked his death. He went to the funeral mourning just like everyone else. It was only after the guests had gone home, and the remaining original Avengers were drinking scotch on the porch as the sun went down, did the miraculous occur. 

“Gumdrop, daddy cooked you a cheeseburger!” Morgan hopped off of Happy’s lap and sprinted inside the house at the sound of the familiar voice. Steve leaned forward, catching the last wisp of her black dress through the screen door, as Tony stepped out. 

Someone’s glass shattered, followed by a roar of sound. He looked worse for wear, but was definitely alive. There was no blue tinge of the hologram, just singed flesh in an arm cast and a bleakly sardonic grin. 

Variations of “TONY!” and “I KNEW IT!” floated around him, but Steve was silent in disbelief. Rhodey and Happy looked completely unsurprised as Bruce enveloped Tony in a bear hug, undoubtedly crushing his remaining ribs in the process. The smile that broke across Thor’s face could have lit up a thousand skies. Clint simply raised his glass in acknowledgement. 

“All right, that’s enough,” Tony managed to squeak out. 

Bruce fell back, still looking on in disbelief. “You’re alive! How?” 

Tony shot him a deadpan look. “You’d think by now I’d have mastered the art of surviving cataclysm against all odds. Except the world actually thinks I’m dead, which is fantastic,” his mouth twitched into a semi-smile, “because now I might  _ finally _ get some time off. Don’t call me about Avengers stuff, I’m officially retired.” 

“You missed the conversation,” Steve chimed in. “We kinda all are.” 

“ _ Retired? _ ” 

“Yeah, I think I’ll have Sam be the new Captain America. Thor’s going off to explore space, Clint’s living the stay-at-home dad life, and Bruce…” 

“I was never a full-time superhero like you guys to begin with,” Bruce supplied, sheepishly sitting back down. “I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing, working in the lab.” 

“You mean taking selfies with impressionable young children,” said Tony, though his delight was palpable. “Seriously? Just like that, we’re all… this is done?” 

“It has been done for five years, now,” Thor articulated the truth they all knew. “Now Thanos is gone, our business is finally finished.” The force that had brought them together all those years ago in New York was gone for good, but it was honestly still a struggle for Steve to accept that fact. After spending a lifetime fighting one seemingly unwinnable battle after another, to have time to rest… it still felt like somebody else’s life. The decades stretched out in front of him, long and purposeless, and it filled Steve with the kind of blank terror he had never felt before. At least with enlisting and the wars that followed, his fear was merciless yet defined, like an electric prod he could always count on. Now, for the first time in as far as he could remember, he was flying completely blind. 

“Wow.” Tony slowly sat down in the empty wicker chair, and Steve realized with a lurch how painful it must be for him. “Look at us, a bunch of old, washed-up farts. I love it.” And he did seem to love it: the idea that  _ his team _ , the only other people who knew exactly what it was like to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, would now be safe from harm’s way. 

Steve nodded, looking down and swirling the remaining whiskey in his glass. “I guess it’s time for me to finally get some of that life you were talking about, Tony.” His eyes flicked up to see Tony’s “thoughtful” face on. 

“Yeah, about that.” 

-&\- 

With the Avengers compound reduced to rubble, Tony had set Steve up in the house across the lake from his. “It’s not as spacious as the tower or the compound, but it’s something,” Tony had shrugged, the closest to bashful that he got nowadays. Steve smiled; he knew this blasé attitude was Tony’s way of disguising how much he cared. “Probably better than the jail cell our friends at Homeland would give you, anyway.” 

Steve looked down the driveway of the two-bedroom cabin. The mailbox read ‘Capsicle,’ which, as Tony had reminded him, was the perimeter of an impenetrable force field and enough automated defense weapons to stop a large army. 

_ I wanted to build a suit of armor around the world _ . In that moment, Steve’s heart swelled with gratitude that this crazy, armor-wielding genius was his friend. 

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve said, hoping the sincerity bled into his voice. 

If the way Tony dismissively flapped his hand was any indication, it did. “Don’t mention it. Also, I made our bird friend a redesigned version of your uniform, complete with wings,” Tony’s brow furrowed, “not that I get why he’d want those, they’re totally impractical compared to repulsors, but whatever, it’s his aesthetic. So flashy.” Steve opened his mouth to thank him again, but sensing this, Tony barreled onwards, “Anyway, there was something else I wanted to tell you.” 

“What is it?” 

“There are terms and conditions to you living here.” Steve rolled his eyes, “I’m serious, Steve! I’m doing this for your own good.” 

“Tony, I’ll be happy to watch Morgan whenever you need.” After all, why else would Tony build Steve a house in such close proximity to his own? Besides, it wasn’t like Steve would have anything else to do with all of his newfound free time. 

“That’s not-” Tony leaned back, appalled, “First of all, you do realize we’re both retired, right? If anything, that poor girl will be tired of seeing both of our beautiful faces day in and day out. Second of all, no, I meant it when I said this was for  _ your _ own good. Steve, have you heard of Tinder?” 

Steve furrowed his eyebrows, “You mean for a fire?” 

Tony actually facepalmed. “No, dummy, the app.” 

For a flash, Steve was annoyed at Tony for making fun of him. Even before Thanos’ snap, Steve hadn’t exactly had a ton of time to sit around playing on apps. Then, there was a sudden click of recognition in his mind. “Yeah, I think Natasha downloaded it on my phone a few years ago.” The mention of Nat made Steve’s heart sink, and he could tell it had the same effect on Tony, judging by the other man’s waning expression. “The dating app, right?”

“That’s the one.” Tony put on his best shit-eating grin, but Steve could tell it was empty behind the eyes, and he almost regretted mentioning her. “Nat set you up a few times?” 

“She tried her best,” Steve admitted, “but I told her then, it’s not like there are many people out there who I have shared life experiences with.”  

“Hmm… You may have a point there, Captain.” 

“Tony, if you make a superhero dating app, I swear-” 

“What, you’ll never use it?” Tony snorted. “You’d be its  _ only _ user.” 

“That’s not- I’m not looking for that right now,” Steve sputtered, indignant. 

Tony let out a dramatic sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stubborn as ever, Rogers…” he muttered, mostly to himself. Then he looked back up, nodding towards Steve’s left pocket. “You still have Peggy’s compass in there?” 

Steve’s hand jumped protectively, and Tony shook his head. His tone softened considerably; fatherhood was doing wonders for his temperament. “Listen, Steve. The last time you saw her was  _ twelve years ago _ , not counting all the time you spent as a Capsicle. You were… what, twenty-five? And now you’re a completely different man. If there was a time to move on, to start a whole new life, this is it. Unless you want to go back to being a government lackey, in which case I won’t stop you.” 

Steve exhaled, looking at the ground, then back up at Tony. He knew his friend had the right intentions. Hell, the compass he kept in his pocket was moreso a motivator than anything else – something to keep him going when times got tough. Now that he could finally live a normal life, the compass was a reminder of those days when he  _ had a direction _ – 

_ Not a good soldier, but a good man.  _ As long as he stayed that way, he still deserved a shot at happiness. 

“Fine, I’ll try. But I’m not going back on Tinder. That app was a wasteland.”  

-&\- 

When Sam stepped out into the living room, Steve felt a distinct burn behind his eyes. 

Tony had outdone himself. The uniform was similar: lighter shades of blue with a scale-like texture crisscrossed the shoulders; the sleek, circular star emblem gleamed pearly white; red and white stripes lined the bottom, perfectly tailoring the waist. The major difference, other than the brighter and more saturated colors, were the collapsable red wings that flared out from either side of Sam’s torso. 

“How do I look?” Sam struck a pose with the shield, but Steve could tell the younger man was still nervous. “Stark said he added repulsors to the pack. Now I can almost keep up with Carol.” 

“You look good,” Steve nodded approvingly, his heart swelling. “Fits perfectly.” He meant that in more ways than one, and Sam’s smile showed he understood. “I don’t know about keeping up with Danvers, though… can’t she fly at the speed of light?” 

“Something like that,” Sam shrugged, the crimson wings folding neatly into his back, allowing him to sit down on Steve’s couch. “We’ll have to race and see. Speaking of her,” and something about the mischievous look on Sam’s face raised Steve’s hackles immediately, “I thought you should know, I set you two up on a date.” 

Steve immediately squawked, “What?! No, no, that’s…” 

“You said you’d be open-minded about this whole dating thing, Steve. Plus, she’s the most powerful woman on earth. Probably in the universe, if I’m being real. It’s worth a shot,” Sam teased, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, it just feels strange, because she’s our… coworker,” Steve finished lamely. 

“And what was Peggy doing with you at the SSR?” 

“That was different!” Steve balked, wondering how many of his friends contributed to making this plan.  _ Traitors, all of them. _

It wasn’t that he was opposed to getting to know Carol better off of the field; she seemed like a wonderful person. It was just, well. Something in his gut told him it wasn’t right, and at this point, Steve had learned to trust his gut above all else. “And Peggy didn’t work for me, she was more like my boss.” 

Once the words had left his mouth, Steve immediately knew he had made a mistake. Sam’s eyebrow jumped. “Two things. One, if you’re implying that Carol is in a subordinate position to you, you’re even more hopeless than I thought. Two, you just confirmed that you have a thing for powerful ladies telling you what to do, and that just makes this date all the more necessary.” 

-&-

When she sat down at the five-star restaurant, the first words that left Carol’s mouth were, “Just so we’re clear, I’m here as a friend,” and Steve exhaled in relief, sagging a little in his too-tight blue button-down. 

“Glad we’re on the same page.” She squinted, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“Let me ask you something. I heard you’re retired. I also hear you’re the type of guy who would rather die than sit back, kick his feet up, and let other people do the hard work of saving the world. Sounds like a contradiction, if you ask me.” Part of Steve liked how straightforward she was, even if the larger part of him rankled at her accusation. 

“Are you calling me a hypocrite?” 

Carol leaned back against the booth. “People do change.” 

“Doesn’t sound like you like it.” 

She sipped her ice water, never breaking eye contact with Steve. “I withhold judgment until necessary.” 

Steve snorted, “Good thing there’s no one here for you to judge.” Of course, that was the moment the waiter chose to come up and take down their appetizers and entrees, creating a tense pause. When he left, Carol seemed to have relaxed a fraction. 

“That didn’t come out like I meant it to. It’s just-” 

“It’s okay,” Steve assured her, and Carol looked away, the candlelight illuminating the short golden strands of hair. “I’d be suspicious, too. I’d want to know what kind of ‘leader’ I’m dealing with.” 

She glanced back up at him, and it was the first time Steve had seen a semblance of a smile inching up her cheek. “Well, it’s not like your track record doesn’t speak for itself. Punched literal Nazis, check. Dramatic self-sacrifice to save his country, check. Then, a fugitive from the U.S. government...” 

“You read my file.” 

“I’ve talked to your friends,” she shot back, and Steve cracked a small grin at that. 

“I’m not sure if I’d call Nick Fury one of my friends.” But before Carol can respond, Steve added, “Is he a hypocrite for going off the grid, too?” 

Her brow crumpled slightly, then smoothed out in understanding. “He had nowhere to go.” The bread arrived, and Steve eagerly grabbed a slice of brioche. He’d been starving for hours. 

“What about you?” Steve asked, once he finished buttering the first piece. “All I know’s that you’re a one-woman savior of the galaxy. Doesn’t seem like an opportunity for a vacation’s going to come up anytime soon.” 

Carol laughed around her bread and had to wipe away the crumbs. Steve felt a small seed of fondness for her grow inside him. “Who says I don’t have time off? The beaches on Saglmir are beyond anything we have here.” Steve rolled his eyes. “To be completely honest, I haven’t thought about it in a long time. It’s hard to explain.” 

“I got time.” 

She swallowed, chewing slowly now. “I’m still human, of course. Sometimes I think about my friends and what’s left of my family. But when that thing entered my body, making me who I am today... It’s almost like the mission takes precedence over anything else. With the good I can do, there’s no time to be selfish. I’m human, but I’m also something separate. A... cosmic entity.”  _ A protector _ . “Not to sound like a cold bitch, but these individual relationships are just blips in the grand scheme of things. I think I might be immortal, so.” 

Steve huffed a laugh. “Must be nice.” 

“If I’m being completely honest, it’s pretty lonely. But someone’s gotta do it.” 

He nodded, completely understanding. “I know.” And that’s something else they had in common: the fear that after all of this is over, there will be nothing else to live for. Steve could only imagine that neuroticism, compounded with living forever, is a recipe for a Godlike work ethic. No wonder she couldn’t fathom why he decided to quit. 

-&-

“So it didn’t work out?” Sam asked over the crackling speakerphone. Steve heard explosions in the background and wondered why on earth Sam thought it was a good idea to chat with him during a mission. 

“I don’t know what you expected, Sam,” said Steve. He was set up on his dock, with an easel, acrylics, and a half-finished painting of the green lake glistening in the sunlight. “She’s  _ literally _ the busiest woman in the universe. Not exactly dating material.” 

“Yeah, but I figured with you doing nothing all day, it’d balance things out,” Sam complained. 

Steve huffed out a laugh, squinting to better see the willow tree in the distance. He’d have to mix darker paints for those shadows than he originally thought- 

“By the way, I have another date for you. Well technically Thor does, let me put him on the line.” 

“Since when do you talk to Thor?” But before Sam could reply, the line had switched. 

“Steve!” 

“Thor, buddy, what are you doing?” 

“Lending a helping hand before I take off. In case you didn’t know, the new Captain America is much more agile.” 

Steve wasn’t sure whether he should be offended or not. “Yeah, he can fly.” 

“About time, too!” Thor roared, and there was the unmistakable sound of crackling thunder. A flock of birds birds near Steve’s phone shrieked and flew away. 

“I hear you have a date for me?” 

“Yes! The new queen of Asgard.” Steve’s eyes widened in shock, and his brush wavered on the canvas. “She’s complained to me of loneliness, and you’re the only Midgardian I can think of who’s even remotely worthy of the honor.” 

“I’m… honored that you thought of me, really, I am, Thor,” Steve stammered, “but I’m not sure if being  _ King of Asgard  _ is-” 

“Oh, don’t worry about that! If your union was successful you’d be more like her pauper,” which, in Steve’s opinion, was even worse. 

“I don’t know about this, maybe someone else?” 

“Sounds great, I’ll set it up!” The line went dead, and Steve sighed. Looking across the lake, he could see Morgan playing near her tent, and that brought a small smile to his lips again.

It turned out most of Steve’s apprehensions were unfounded. Valkyrie was as down-to-earth as an otherwordly queen could be. The dive bar she chose to meet at was a dingy hole in the wall, and when he arrived, she wasted no time with introductions: 

“You’re handsome,” she eyed him up and down, as if to emphasize her point, “but not really my type. Sorry. But we can still have a few drinks, if you like.” 

“Sure,” Steve said easily. He was relieved, and yet… “Somehow both of the dates I’ve been set up on have started this way. Must be me, I guess,” he joked self-deprecatingly.

Valkyrie rose an eyebrow, lifting her beer to her mouth. “What kind of dates have you been going on?” 

“So far, just two. But I guess being rejected by both the Queen of Asgard and Captain Marvel is a new kind of honor.” 

The other eyebrow lifted. “Tell me something.” 

“Hm?” 

“Do you think… Did you pick up any gay vibes?” 

“From Carol? I mean, other than the haircut, I’m not sure if I did.” 

Valkyrie finished the rest of the beer in a single swig. Steve leaned back, smiling to himself. He wondered who could down their drinks faster in a race, Thor or Valkyrie. 

“Damn. Well that’s disappointing.” Steve sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. He could be oblivious at times, but he wasn’t stupid. 

“You like her?” 

“Who wouldn’t? Have you  _ seen _ what that woman can do?” 

A fair point. “Not to burst your bubble, but I don’t think she’s in the right frame of mind right now to be seeing anyone.” 

Valkyrie snorted. “Are any of us? We’re all traumatized workaholics, but I guess that’s what saving the world does to you. Or that’s just the kind of person who would take it upon themselves to save it.” 

Steve sipped his beer thoughtfully. There really was no right time to find the right person. It made sense; if he thought that way, he could always manage to keep coming up with excuses for why it wasn’t the right time  _ yet _ . “Maybe you should talk to her.” 

“You know what, I will. Give me her number.” 

“What?” 

“You heard me.” She extended her hand. Steve sighed. He knew this whole dating experiment was bound to be a fantastic failure for him, but if another happy couple could come out from it, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a complete waste after all. 

“Fine.” Steve took out his phone and texted it to her. When Valkyrie had sent the first message to Carol after another 10 minutes of agonizing deliberation (“Hey it’s Valkyrie the girl on the pegasus, Steve gave me your #”) and Carol responded “Hey girl on the pegasus, what’s up?” in 1 minute and 38 seconds, Steve clapped his hands and burst into a grin. 

“She’s into you!” 

Valkyrie shot him a disbelieving look. “Is she? She said ‘what’s up,’ that’s a totally normal thing to say, right?” 

“It took her 22 hours to respond when I first texted her, and it said ‘busy saving five planets at once, what do you need’.” 

She nodded appreciatively. “All right, she’s into me and your gaydar is just nonexistent. What do I say now?!” 

“I don’t know, I’m pretty terrible at this kind of thing. Just be yourself.” 

“That’s helpful,” Valkyrie muttered. “Do you think it’d be too forward if I asked her for drinks?” 

“Try it.” 

The resulting text ended up reading “Next time you’re on earth mind grabbing a few drinks?” without an emoji, even though Steve advocated strongly for a smiley face (“It shows you’re interested!” “It’s too cheesy, just like you”) tacked on at the end. 

Carol responded instantly. “Sure, I’m here now. On Asgard?” 

Valkyrie screamed, and all the other bar patrons turned their heads. “Oh my Gods, she’s into me!” 

Steve smothered his laugh with his hand. He hadn’t felt this kind of giddy, childlike glee in a long time. 

“Hey… don’t take this too seriously, but… if Captain Marvel is your type, why aren’t I?” 

When she glanced up from her phone questioningly, he elaborated, “We’re both blonde Captains.” He wanted to add,  _ we both have a stubborn streak a mile wide, and possibly the finest asses in the galaxy, _ but that probably would’ve been a bit much. 

Valkyrie shrugged. “You’re old fashioned, aren’t you?” 

“Carol’s from the 90’s,” Steve said indignantly. “And aren’t you older than this solar system?” 

“I guess.” She wrinkled her nose, “It’s just something about you. You’re like a dad.” 

Steve supposed that answered that. He spent the next hour helping Valkyrie craft increasingly saucy text messages (she ignored most of his advice) and drinking through a dozen self-pitying beers. 

-&\- 

“I give up,” Steve groaned, dropping face-first onto his couch. “All of the powerful women in the world are lesbians, I just need to accept it.” Bucky nodded from the armchair, considering this truth. 

“It makes sense. Most of the men at that level are just entitled assholes.” 

“Not helping, Buck.” 

“Who said I was trying to help?” 

Steve peeked at him pitifully, and Bucky shrugged. “That was always more of Nat’s speed, and you know it.” 

Steve snorted, “Not like she was successful, either. I’m chronically un-dateable.” 

“You need to try a different strategy.” Steve supposed this was Bucky’s way of being encouraging. “If not women, what about…” 

“Men?” 

“You said it, not me.” 

“I wouldn’t… be opposed,” Steve said carefully, and he caught Bucky’s eyes widening slightly. Steve had actually given this a considerable amount of thought. It was a new century, after all, and while he still struggled to see himself publicly  _ marrying _ another man, the attraction part of the equation was hardly new for him… specifically in regards to Bucky, not that the other man ever needed to know that. 

He was suddenly plagued with old memories of Bucky holding girls close as they danced, and wondering, if only for a moment, how it would feel to be held that exact way, and Steve blushed from his toes to his hairline. 

“Wow.” Bucky seemed to be taking a moment to process this new information. “Okay, swell. Your options just opened way up, buddy.” He cleared his throat.

“I don’t know.” Steve rolled over so his back was against the couch and he faced the ceiling, one hand behind the pillow. “You know I’ve never… It would just be different.” 

“Not that different from being with a lady,” Bucky said. Even just from his voice, Steve could sense the lightness in Bucky’s tone was forced. 

“You wouldn’t know that,” Steve sighed, doing his best to banish the memory of longing. It was a skill he’d been perfecting since 1938.  

There was a long pause, punctured only by the sound of the birds, the wind rustling through the trees, and Steve’s homemade stew bubbling up in the crock pot. Steve assumed Bucky had fallen asleep or simply dropped the conversation. 

“Actually, I would.” 

Steve snapped his head to look at Bucky, who was steadfastly staring out the window. To say he was  _ shocked _ didn’t cover it. And if he was being honest, Steve was mostly offended that Bucky hadn’t told him this earlier. 

“What?! When was this?” 

“Back before the war, okay, it wasn’t a big deal,” Bucky snapped defensively. 

“Yeah, it’s not, I just…” Steve turned his body so that he faced Bucky more fully, head propped up on his right hand. “I’m a little hurt you didn’t tell me, s’all.” 

_ Maybe if he had known Bucky was also queer, he wouldn’t have hated himself so much for being that way, too. _

_ Maybe they could have… _

Bucky sighed, clearly regretting saying anything at all, and Steve rushed to backpedal. “Was it anyone I knew?” 

If the pained expression on Bucky’s face was any indication, he would’ve rather endured torture at that moment. “No, it was… casual, just some fairy, once, at the promenade. And I still prefer women,” he asserted, but it rang hollow. Steve’s eyebrows wrinkled. 

“Okay… But you’re still, you still. Feel that way?” 

Bucky glared at him. “It doesn’t  _ go away _ , Steve.” 

“I know!” Steve’s voice rose to an embarrassingly high pitch, and God, Steve was terrible at this. He wished he knew the right thing to say at that moment to reassure Bucky, who was clearly just as overwhelmed by this whole revelation as he was. “I only wish I knew, because… I think I always knew I was too,” he admitted. “Wouldn’t have been so lonely if we could’ve talked about it, back then. Now it’s different, thank God.”

Bucky nodded, apparently relieved that this part of the conversation was over. “Now they have Pride. Kids don’t know how lucky they are.” 

“C’mon, old man,” Steve teased, “it’s still not easy.” 

Bucky shot him a glare. “It was  _ illegal _ and a  _ mental illness _ .” 

Steve sighed and switched gears. “Buck, can I ask you something?” 

“I don’t know, Rogers, you used up all your questions today.” The anxious edge had returned to Bucky’s voice. 

Steve ignored him. He desperately wanted to ask  **_Did you ever feel that way about me?_ ** , the question crawling up his traitorous throat, but died out at the last moment, like it always did. Steve was too afraid to hear the truth, yet too close to let Bucky go. 

“What’s the difference between ‘Bisexual’ and ‘Pansexual’?” He had done some research on the internet, but the results weren’t very illuminating. 

“I think,” Bucky scratched his head, “Bi was first, then they came up with Pan, to include more genders. Not that Bi isn’t inclusive, it’s just sounds kind of…” 

“ _ Bi _ nary,” Steve supplied. 

“Exactly. But it’s up to the person, which one they want to use.” 

“Hm. Okay. I like Bi. Does that make me old-fashioned?” 

“That’s what you  _ are _ ,” Bucky said, but there was an unmistakable waver in his voice. “...But I like it too.” 

News of Steve’s newly declared sexuality traveled fast, considering how far apart all of the Avengers were. Later that week, Steve was eating supper in Sam’s kitchen when the meal was interrupted by an emergency team meeting. When the call was wrapping up, the holographic T’Challa turned to address Steve. 

“Also, I hear you are looking for dates, Steven. I think Okoye would-” 

“Hang on,” Steve put down his fork mid-bite, hands waving wildly in the air in a ‘stop this’ motion, “Okoye? Your personal bodyguard?” 

“That’s the one.” 

“Listen, T’Challa,” Steve deadpanned, “My gaydar may be bad, but it’s not  _ broken _ . That woman is a lesbian if I’ve ever met one.” 

This rendered the Wakandan king speechless, and the other Avengers burst into howling laughter. “She’s queer, yes,” T’Challa shouted over the ruckus, somewhat indignantly, “but not a lesbian, the last time I checked.” 

“You may want to check again,” said Steve, putting on his most earnest voice. 

“I’m  _ pretty _ sure she’s Bi,” said T’Challa, sounding less and less sure of himself with each passing moment. “But if you’d rather not…” 

“Steve’s Bi,” Sam added helpfully. When Steve gave him his best ‘how the hell do you know that?’ look, Sam simply elaborated, “Bucky and I do more than bicker these days.” 

Steve’s eyebrows rocketed to his hairline. “What’s  _ that _ supposed to mean?” He wasn’t sure if he could handle the dramatic irony of his two closest friends hooking up behind his back. 

“Ha! That came out wrong,” and Steve hated himself a little for how intense relief washed over his body. “I mean we talk, okay. Mostly about you.” 

“Talking shit, I assume.” Steve reached his fork out and grabbed a potato from Sam’s plate in revenge. 

“The point is,” and here Sam turned to face the rest of the team, “Old Captain America is looking for all kinds of dates.” T’Challa looked like he was still processing the incredibly obvious fact that Okoye was a lesbian. Carol shrugged in a ‘been there, tried that’ gesture. Bucky was wearing his favorite slightly-pained smile. Wanda and Peter seemed to be asking themselves how their latest mission turned out to involve getting Steve Rogers a date.

“Doctor Strange is single,” Peter chimed in, and the entire team adopted varying expressions of ‘that sounds like a terrible idea’. 

“Is he… Does he even…” Steve floundered, but they all knew what he was trying to say. 

“Only one way to find out,” said Sam, a grin slowly working its way across his face. 

-&\- 

“Tony spoke highly of you,” Steve eventually blurted out, in hopes of breaking the ice. What Tony had actually said was  _ That wizard guy is definitely copying my facial hair and my whole schtick, what a poser _ , but Steve was trying to work with what he had. 

By the look on Strange’s face, he didn’t buy it. “Did he.” Steve had never heard a more dangerously serious deadpan in his life. 

“He called you a wizard,” Steve admitted more truthfully, and Stephen snorted. 

“That sounds better.” The sorcerer picked up his red wine and swirled it in his glass. They were sitting in a swankily modern hotel bar somewhere in Manhattan, up on the 80th floor. The restaurant was all clear walls and chandeliers; Steve felt like he was moments from tipping off the edge of the fractal universe. 

The view of the city was beautiful, though. 

“Steve,” and Steve’s eyes flickered back to meet Stephen’s. “You know there’s nothing wrong with being alone.” 

Steve put on his best lopsided, self-deprecating smile. “I’m doing that bad, huh.” 

“You’re drifting,” Stephen stated matter-of-factly, his words piercing Steve’s core, “and you’re letting your friends carry you right now. Mindlessly following their lead.” 

Steve shrugged, brushing off the sting. “They’ve followed me for the last ten years. They know what’s good for me.” 

“Do  _ you _ ?” 

Steve bristled, “I thought you were a surgeon, not a therapist.” 

“And I thought you had a personality, yet here we are.” 

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle darkly at that, even though he had half a mind to get up and not come back. “You and Tony have more in common than just the facial hair, you know that.” 

That earns him a half-smile. “So I hear. We’re geniuses, retired playboys, wealthy, philanthropists.” 

“I just heard ‘I’m not a billionaire,’” which earns him a full-on laugh. 

“Touché, Rogers. But you’re talking to a man who can summon piles of gold at will.” 

“Good thing I’m not looking for a sugar daddy.” 

“And what are you looking for, exactly?” They’ve circled back to the original question that Steve thought he’d dodged. He gazed into his untouched drink. 

“The opposite of loneliness.” Steve shook his head, still smiling to himself, “Whatever that is.” 

“Well, both of us know you won’t find that here.” Steve nodded at that; it was crystal clear that the chemistry between them was nonexistent. “I’ve been alone pretty much my entire life,” Strange continued, nonchalant as ever, but there was a cord of steel underneath his aloof exterior. “Never really was a problem.” 

“Why do you people keep saying that?” Steve complained, crossing his arms. “What’s so wrong with wanting…” 

Stephen gazed across the table soberly. “When the wanting takes over everything else,” he said cryptically. “A word of advice, Steve. Stop  _ looking _ so hard. You’ll only end up farther away from home.” 

The rational part of Steve’s brain knew that he was talking to an immeasurably wise wizard, and should have probably heeded his advice. Instead, he made a conscious choice to embrace his inner pettiness, stood up, said “Bill me,” and walked away. 

The omnipotent Strange probably could’ve found him hiding on the hotel rooftop, but chose to leave him alone, for which Steve felt the smallest twinge of gratitude. The wind at that altitude was cold but not biting. He told himself this wasn’t self-pity; that was for back when he knew what he wanted -- first Bucky, then Peggy -- and knew it wasn’t meant to be. It wasn’t like his hopes were terribly high, going into this particular date. So why did part of him feel like he wanted to fall off the face of the earth? 

_ You know there’s nothing wrong with being alone.  _

The good Doctor had to be right. 

After some unknown length of time had passed (fifteen minutes? an hour? Steve couldn’t really bring himself to care), he heard the familiar twip! of Peter’s webshooters nearby. The sound grew louder and louder, until the wall-crawler himself was perched on the balcony next to Steve. 

“Date went that well, huh?” 

“Not the time, Queens.” 

“Hey, I get it.” Spider-Man took a seat on the ledge and turned off his comms, his legs dangling off into the light-speckled abyss below. “Relationships suck.” 

Steve felt mildly ashamed when he realized that a 16-year old nerd likely had more romantic experience than he did. “Tell me about it.” 

He meant it as more of a rhetorical statement, but Peter seemed to take it as a literal invitation. “I think I’ve been in love with my best friend since middle school.” 

“Oh?” Steve turned to face him. Peter nodded, taking off the mask. 

“MJ. Except I was too busy crushing on the most popular girl in school for like four years, but then it turned out her dad was a supervillain, so that kind of killed it…” 

“Ah,” Steve said, as if this was the most normal circumstance in the world. “So now you’re in love with your best friend.” 

“But that’s the thing. I think I’ve been in love with her this whole time.” 

“How do you not know if you’ve… been in love with somebody… for years?” asked Steve, though the voice in the back of his head was screaming at him,  _ You know damn well how, you massive idiot. _

Peter, oblivious to Steve’s inner angst, tilted his head back to face the sky. “It’s like, part of me always thought,  _ she’s so awesome, and funny, and kind of weird, but she just gets me like no one else _ . I told myself it was in a friend way, you know? Even though that was always a lie. And now… I know this sounds bad, but it’s like, I’m so scared she’ll find someone better than me. That’s how I realized I loved her. As more than a friend. God, this is scary.” 

“Yeah,” Steve said faintly. “You should tell her how you feel.” 

Peter looked at Steve like that was the worst idea he’d ever heard in his life. “Are you crazy?! What if she rejects me, and our friendship becomes all weird…” Steve’s heart wrenched. The kid looked truly miserable at the thought. “I don’t know if I’d give our friendship up for anything.” 

“Even for the possibility of what you’ve always wanted?” 

Peter hugged his legs to his chest, and it became painfully clear to Steve how young he was. “Yeah, even that.” 

“Then you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering what you could’ve had,” Steve said gently, “if you’d been brave enough to ask for it.” 

This seemed to throw Peter for a loop. “Maybe I’ll end up doing that, then,” he said after a long pause, but Steve knew it was another half-truth. Peter had guts. If anyone could summon up the courage for this specific kind of impossible task, it would be him. 

Steve clapped him on the back. “No, you won’t.” 

“No, I probably, hopefully, won’t.” Peter hopped up on the balcony and pulled the mask back on. “Thanks for the vaguely threatening pep talk, Cap- Steve! Calling you that feels weird.” 

“You can call me Cap,” Steve assured him. “And pep talks only work if they’re vaguely threatening!” he called out as Peter swung away.  

-&\- 

“So I might be in love with Bucky.” Saying it aloud wasn’t half as terrifying as Steve thought it would be. Tony looked entirely unimpressed. 

“Steve, when you said this was an emergency, I thought you meant a  _ real _ emergency. Not an opportunity for you to state the obvious,” Tony said with an eyeroll. 

Steve glared. “Can you take this seriously, Tony, I think I’m having a mental breakdown, here.” 

“I always take you seriously,” Tony walked around his kitchen to clap his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “And how do you think I felt when I found out I was in love with Pepper?” 

“Worked out pretty well for you two,” Steve said, gesturing to the house around them. 

“Didn’t know that at the time. I bought her a box of strawberries. She’s allergic to strawberries.” Tony wrinkled his nose at the memory. 

“...Smooth.” 

“My point is, I was a mess and happened to be dying of palladium poisoning. You, on the other hand,” Tony waved his egg-spattered spatula at Steve, “are in a much better place.” 

“I don’t know about that, Tony.” At this point, Steve couldn’t even trust his grief, which was all he had for the last five years. Every single day Bucky, Sam, and the others had been gone, Steve was convinced he’d never feel anything again. The only thing keeping him going was the knowledge that other people needed his encouragement. He started leading group therapy, which gave him something to do, some tiny blip of purpose in his life. 

And then… 

When the dusted had been brought back, of course the sheer relief of it almost knocked him over. Yet there was something uglier behind that shining joy: the terror of never being able to truly feel safe again. 

He had tore apart the world and the Avengers to save Bucky. Then Bucky had to learn to put himself together again, and Steve was willing to give him the space he needed for two long, painfully lonely years. Just when it looked like things could return to some semblance of peace… 

“Hey,” Tony snapped his fingers, “You’re sinking into a self-pitying void again. C’mon, Rogers, takes one to know one.” 

“Sorry,” Steve shook his head a little and continued chopping vegetables. 

“I know it sounds difficult, but could try to allow yourself the smallest iota of happiness in life?” 

Steve looked at his friend disbelievingly. “I think at this point, Tony, that kind of thing isn’t meant for-” 

“If you complete that sentence, I will flip this omelette into your face.”  Steve closed his mouth. “How does Barnes feel about it?” 

“We talked a little. I’m pretty sure he’s also Bi.” 

“ _ Pretty _ sure.” Tony slid the omelette onto a clean plate. “So what’s the issue?” 

Steve handed over the bowl of chopped peppers and onions. Peter’s words from their last conversation rang through his head:  _ I don’t know if I’d give our friendship up for anything.  _

“If you don’t see how Manchurian Candidate looks at you, you may want to get your eyes checked.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean.” 

“Like you’re his sun, moon, and stars? Like he’d follow you to the ends of the universe-” 

Steve felt his face warm and turned away. “We’re best friends.” 

“No, me and Rhodey are best friends, and we don’t have any of the sexual tension you and Barnes have probably been cultivating since the 40’s.” 

“I’m starting to think I asked the wrong person for dating advice,” Steve said dryly. While it was true that Tony and Pepper had one of the most successful superhero relationships Steve had ever had the honor of witnessing, it seemed like the secret to their success couldn’t be put in a bottle. 

“Excuse you, I am a paragon of wit and seduction,” Tony said, sounding offended. “Get him a nice, sentimental gift, and tell him how you feel. Worst case scenario, things are awkward for a week or so, and he stops coming over for brunch.” 

Steve leaned against the counter and watched the sun rise over the hills, streaking golden light across the kitchen. “And what’s the best case scenario?” 

“You get married and live happily ever after. Easy.” 

That was the moment Morgan chose to run downstairs with her stuffed rabbit in tow. “Daddy, is breakfast ready?” 

“Almost, sweetheart,” Tony beamed, scooping her up in his free arm. “Uncle Steve could use some help right now. He’s about to do something very scary.” Steve made a ‘cut it out’ motion in Tony’s direction, but immediately stopped when Morgan turned around to look Steve in the eye. 

“Uncle Steve, you can do it. When I get scared, I hold Mr. Jarvis.” She handed the bunny to Steve, who felt a tear building behind his eye. “He makes everything better.” 

“Thanks, honey.” Steve accepted the rabbit, and Tony sent him a ‘I told you so’ stare. “I feel better already.” 

-&\- 

Steve always started his day with a run through the woods, followed by eating breakfast with the Starks, helping Pepper with the landscaping, painting, lunch, and then taking the Quinjet to the city. There he met with the old group once a week (just because everyone came back didn’t mean all of the survivor’s trauma went away), volunteered at the retirement home in his old neighborhood, then returned home in time for dinner.   

When he approached the front steps, he heard a rustle from inside. He told himself it was probably Bucky, getting started on dinner. Steve didn’t think anything of it until he opened the door- 

“SURPRISE!” Somehow, all of the old and new Avengers had managed to cram themselves into Steve’s tiny cabin. The entire room was decorated with well over a dozen balloons, streamers, and a large banner that read HAPPY 109TH BIRTHDAY! 

“Wow,” Steve mouthed, as his friends took turns greeting him. Wanda walked out from the kitchen with an ice cream cake that read “America’s Grandpa” on it.  Sam bought him a new set of paints, “because you were complaining about how your old ones dried too fast.” Pepper and Morgan had collaborated on a miniature garden for Steve’s desk. T’Challa brought him a vibranium statuette of Steve charging Thanos, bringing down lightning all. Peter brought a tray of homemade casserole that he and Aunt May had made together, her classic recipe. Bruce, who had recently taken up knitting, made Steve a navy blue sweater with the Avengers A on the front. Clint’s family drew him a card with a trademark crayon scribble. Thor sent his love in the form of Mjolnir wrapped laughably in confetti gift paper, with a bow on top. Steve thought his heart might burst from the whole ordeal. 

He’d finally found his home. 

After dinner was served, the cake was cut, and the birthday song had been sung, the crowd stepped out on the dock to watch the animated, silent fireworks Tony had specially designed for the occasion.  

“Hey,” Bucky sidled up to Steve in the kitchen, eyeing the island that was cluttered with gifts. “I guess you’re special or something.” 

Steve’s mouth tugged into a half-smile. “You’ve been quiet.” 

“Just observing.” That was what Bucky did best, nowadays. Steve remembered when he used to be the life of the party, the first one to break out the alcohol, the first one to grab a partner and start dancing to the music. “You seem happy, though.” 

“I am happy.” Steve’s cheeks were sore from smiling for the last hour. The soft smile on Bucky’s face spoke for itself. 

“I, uh, get you something.” 

Steve quirked an eyebrow. They could hear the kids cheering to the fireworks from outside. 

Bucky reached over to one of Steve’s kitchen drawers and pulled it open. It was a cardboard gift box, small enough to fit in the palm of Bucky’s flesh hand. When Steve opened it, his eyes blew wide. 

“Where did you find these?” 

Bucky averted his eyes. “May have stole them from the Smithsonian.” 

“Bucky!” 

“Kidding! It’s our personal property,” Bucky huffed, “so I  _ rightfully collected _ it.” 

“You’re impossible, and you’re going to get us arrested,” Steve said, but there was no heat behind it. His eyes started watering a bit, but he blinked them back so he could better see. 

They were Steve and Bucky’s old polaroids from the 30’s and 40’s, in some cases faded beyond belief, but the outlines still discernible through the gloss. 

There was a snapshot of Steve sketching the city skyline from their two-room apartment. One of Steve posing with his family when he was fifteen, his father’s stern gaze filtering through the years, his mother’s sweet smile reflecting back at him. There was Bucky in suspenders with his shirtsleeves rolled up, Bucky in his shiny new Sergeant uniform, the commandos posing for a picture before their first mission together. 

There was Steve, tiny and sickly in base camp, the original copy of the photograph he saw in Peggy’s office. 

Steve flipped through them a second time, then a third, always lingering on the snapshot with his parents. He’d long accepted that he’d never see their faces again, and that they would only live on through his memory. “Thank you, Buck,” he said, barely above a whisper. 

“It’s the least I could do,” Bucky responded. “Back when I was trying to remember, I found these in the museum. They helped me get it all back.” 

Steve couldn’t believe how lucky he was. To defy death a dozen times, and have this… it didn’t seem fair, or possible, for one person to be so happy. 

His heart pounded in his chest as he turned to face Bucky. It reminded him of facing the edge of a cliff, only more terrifying. 

“Bucky… there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you. I think you deserve to know,” Steve said emphatically. Bucky was phenomenal at hiding his physical responses, but Steve was able to pick up on the slight hitch of breath, the tinge of fear on Bucky’s face. 

“Yeah?” 

“It’s not a big deal,” Steve stalled, echoing Bucky’s words from their last conversation about relationships. He looked down at the photographs in his hands, which were trembling ever-so-slightly, and scanned the area to make sure there was no one else within earshot. 

The repetition of the phrase seemed to trigger something in Bucky, who smiled sadly. “Just spit it out, Rogers. I bet it isn’t your first time letting some poor schmuck down easy.” 

It took Steve a few seconds to process what Bucky said, over the blood roaring in his ears. “...What?” 

This reaction seemed to piss Bucky off, but it was clear that the anger was only there to mask the hurt. “Don’t play dumb, Rogers.” Bucky turned away, bracing himself on the kitchen counter. “It’s clear you’d rather be with anyone- literally  _ anyone _ else.” He barked out a laugh, but it was too loud. “I mean c’mon,  _ Stephen Strange _ ?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”  

The other man hunched more deeply into his shoulderblades. “Knew I shouldn’t have taken Stark’s advice,” he muttered, moreso to himself. “Probably just trying to sabotage, get the revenge he always wanted.” 

That’s when it finally clicked in Steve’s head. “...Wait. You also went to Tony for dating advice?” 

Bucky was suspiciously silent at that. Steve almost laughed at his own stupidity, but it suddenly became painfully clear that if he didn’t move fast, Bucky would probably just die under the weight of his embarrassment. “Wait, just, stay here, okay, don’t move!” Steve nearly tripped over himself on his way to the bedroom. He grabbed the parcel underneath the bed, which wasn’t wrapped yet. 

At that point, it was the least of Steve’s worries. 

Thankfully, Bucky hadn’t moved from his tense stance in the kitchen. “Buck, look at me.” Bucky whipped his head around, and Steve could’ve sworn that he saw a tear fall from Bucky’s eye. 

“Is that… You made that?” 

It was a painting of Bucky from Steve’s memory, after one of their recent dinners on Steve’s dock. Bucky had his shoes off and his pant legs rolled up, feet dipped in the water. The setting sun speckled gold on his metal arm, and brought out the auburn strands of his hair. There was a truly happy, relaxed look on his face that Steve wanted to capture. It wasn’t found in any of the polaroids; back then, Bucky’s joy had been a short, tightly-wound thing -- a bottle of cheap liquor, a sparkling new suit. Now, in the life they’d built together, it was something real. 

“Don’t play dumb, Barnes-” Steve parroted at him in a way meant to be teasing, but before he could finish the sentence, Bucky had lurched towards him and pulled him into a clumsy kiss. 

The painting dropped on the countertop with a clatter. Steve braced himself against the island as a surprised noise left his mouth. When Bucky pulled away just as abruptly, his eyes were burning. 

“Does that mean…”  _ you feel the same way?  _

“You idiot,” Steve said in his softest, fondest voice. “I thought  _ you _ wouldn’t.” 

“Between waking up in the future, getting hunted by two of our best friends, going back in cryo, and then getting turned into dust,” Bucky counted the events on his fingers, “there wasn’t exactly any time for dating, Steve.” 

“There’s time now,” Steve reminded him, dropping another kiss on Bucky’s cheek, who made a tiny squeak and tucked his face into Steve’s neck. “There’s all the time in the world. And I can’t believe you didn’t know, Buck. I had a crush on you in 1940.” 

“Had,” Bucky repeated doubtfully, leaning into the hug. 

“Still have, will always have.” Steve shook him slightly for emphasis. “Do you have any idea how much I… I fucking love you? God, when you died the second time, there was a second when I really did think about ending it all.” 

“Thank God you didn’t,” Bucky murmured, “Or else I would’ve had to kick you out of Hell myself.” 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ starkerized!


End file.
